Midnight Reflections
by hetalian-homocake
Summary: Gilbert can't sleep as he reflects on his relationship with Antonio and Francis. He simply hates the prospect of being alone.


Gilbert glanced over at his companions, who sat on the floor asleep, propped up against each other. He smiled Antonio's soft snores and Francis' occasional slight twitches. Both were worn out from a long day of going around, pranking people and simply being obnoxious, but Gilbert was wide awake.

There was no one in this world that meant more to Gilbert than these two. Their rowdy actions might seem like fun and games—and to them, even, it very well could be just that—but to the albino it was much more. They were his very best friends. No, he pondered, that term doesn't cut it. He couldn't quite think of the right term, but "best friends" didn't seem like quite enough. Gilbert loved them. He loved them both. More than anything or anyone.

"… _hon hon hon_… you like that, don't you…?" mumbled Francis, still asleep.

"… pass the churros, por favor…" Antonio sighed, almost as if in reply.

Gilbert couldn't help but let out a quiet, dry little laugh. Little things like this were how he knew how much he loved them, both equally. Francis was graceful and beautiful—not to mention a complete pervert—with an attitude of talking bigger than he acted that added some spice to his already flavorful personality. Antonio was laid-back and agreeable, but sometimes he could be surprisingly perverted, which added just the right flair to allow him to fit in perfectly with Francis and Gilbert. The two of them together, it felt, helped to balance out Gilbert's loud, impulsive, sometimes obnoxious character; but weren't so drastically different as to cause conflict.

But they didn't love him back. Not like that, not to that extent. And he knew they never would. Sure, the three had experimented and fooled around plenty of times, but in the end; Francis had Arthur, Antonio had Lovino, and what did Gilbert have? Nothing. Nobody. Ultimately, he was utterly alone.

During the day, his inflated ego was usually enough to keep him distracted from thoughts like this. But at night, when nothing was going on to occupy his ego and keep it awake, Gilbert often found himself laying awake for hours on end, worrying and thinking unpleasant thoughts.

He didn't want to be alone. He _hated_ being alone. But when he stopped and faced the fact, he became aware that nobody really liked him. Roderich and Elizabeta—both of which he was actually quite fond of, despite how much he liked to pester them—utterly despised him and his insufferable ways. Even Ludwig, his own little brother, seemed to find him rather annoying.

So as far as Gilbert was concerned, Francis and Antonio were all he really had. But he didn't… really even _have_ them. Each of them had something else, _someone_ else, that was above the trio in priority.

"Are you all right, cher?"

Gilbert looked up to see Francis gazing worriedly at him from across the room. Antonio was still sound asleep, his head on the Frenchman's shoulder.

"Ja… I'm fine," the albino replied quickly, looking down at the floor.

"Non, you are not. Venir, come sit and tell me what is troubling you." Francis patted the floor next to him, on the side opposite from the sleeping Spaniard.

Reluctantly, Gilbert clambered to his feet and crossed the room, sitting down and resting his head on Francis' unoccupied shoulder. Before he even became aware that he was crying, he found the blonde's shirt soaked through with his tears. Francis said nothing, but smiled kindly and stroked the Prussian's silvery white hair.

Antonio snorted and jerked himself awake. "Qué…? What's going on?"

Francis simply nodded toward Gilbert, and Antonio immediately crawled over so that he sat on the Prussian's opposite side.

"¿Qué pasa? Do you know?" he whispered across the sobbing albino. Francis only shook his head in response. Antonio nodded and began to comfortingly rub Gilbert's back.

Gilbert glanced up at them and was immediately comforted by the two sets of eyes that returned his gaze. Antonio was warm and friendly green. Francis was calm and understanding blue. His own eyes, he knew, were intense and somewhat psychotic red.

"Are you ready to tell us what's wrong, mon ange?" the Frenchman asked gently.

Gilbert sat up and wiped the tears from his face. In any other situation, he would have been ashamed to be in such a vulnerable position, and he would have tried to hide this emotion, this weakness. But here, with these two, he was free to act however and be whatever he wanted; as he knew they would never judge him.

"I just… never want you to leave me," he sniffed, eyes darting from one face to the other.

Antonio smiled and grabbed Gilbert by the shoulders, pulling him over so that he, Antonio, could bury his face in the albino's hair.

"Gilbert," Francis began, taking the Prussian's hands in his own, "we cannot predict the future. And we have no way of knowing what will be."

"Lo que será será… será," Antonio agreed. "What will be… will be."

Francis nodded and continued. "But I can tell you one thing. I believe I can speak for both of us when I say we will never abandon you."

Antonio nodded in agreement. "I'm staying right here, querido."

"Oui, as am I."

Gilbert smiled weakly and reached an arm out to hug Francis closer, so that he was equally close to both of them. "Ich liebe dich."

"Te amo."

"Je t'aime."

Before long, the three of them slipped into a deep and contented sleep.

~ _Ende ~ Final ~ Fin ~ _


End file.
